Want To Hate You ... Too Bad I Love You

by Melanie Marks

  Oh, the pain!

  His warm hungry eyes are drinking her in, adoring her.

  My knees wobble.

  The agonizing sight makes these black spots zoom in and out of my field of vision. And then—then I see them lightly kiss. Oh my gosh! I’m going down!

  Before my head bashes on the ground, two gigantic hands catch me. It happens in a flash, one minute a hundred-thousand needles are pricking my heart from seeing my Grady press his lips against another girls (pain!) Then I was falling into a completely black oblivion. But now two hands are gently cradling my head. I look up into hypnotic green eyes. Eyes that I know. Very, very well. Too well, actually.

  “W—what happened?” I stammer out.

  Smith reaches down and quickly straightens my skirt, since when I fell, my skirt came flying up and displayed my underwear for the entire world—well, my entire school (which is basically my world).

  Lucky for me, I’m wearing my fancy, lacy underwear, since I wanted to feel sexy and stunning (since I’m obviously a sack of potatoes that has been cast aside for the lovely, boyfriend-stealing Becca). Anyway, like I said, lucky I’m wearing my nice underwear, since it would be embarrassing to show off granny panties as you faint in the middle of the whole school due to stalking your ex-boyfriend kissing your replacement.

  See? Lucky me.

  Okay, so not.

  Although face it, all of that is lucky compared to the really unlucky part, which just dawned on me a moment later as I was coming out of my hazy fog and realized—oh my gosh! I peed myself!!

  As Smith straightened my skirt, he answered my ‘What happened?’ question.

  “You fainted,” he informs me as he straightens my skirt, then he smiles when he discovers his hands are now wet, “—and peed your pants,” he whispers in my ear.

  I go up in flames.

  Smith chuckles softly.

  “You have lots of ‘accidents’ huh?” he teases gently, with a half-amused, yet half-sympathetic grin. He says it because, you know, I had announced to him that day on the ski trip that I had an ‘accident’ in the bus’s bathroom.

  However, his gentle teasing right now is different than normal. Right now it’s as though his teasing is more to ease the moment than embarrass me. In fact, he seems to be trying to coax me out of dying of embarrassment.

  So, while he’s being all soft and sensitive, I quickly plead, “Will you promise not to tell anyone—please?”

  “Well, he saw you faint.”

  He’s talking about Grady—of course.

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t know the rest.”

  Smith grins, like the “rest” is hilarious.

  But he says, “Okay, yeah. I won’t tell anyone.”

  He says it reassuringly. Like a sincere promise. (Though he’s still smiling.) (Huge.)

  (Groan.)

  I know I’m pushing it, but still. “Also, could you give me a ride home?”

  His eyes dance. “I don’t know. I think your condition might be bad for my seats.”

  When I squeeze my eyes shut, he leans into me. “I was joking. Relax. I can’t deny a girl that faints at my feet—lucky for you.” Then he adds, “—though it’s unlucky for my car.”

  Before I can groan, he says quickly, “Here comes your faint-inducing ex.”

  “Come on,” he says, practically picking me up as he leads me to the bathroom—and away from Grady.

  CHAPTER 16

  “You okay?” Grady texts the moment I’m securely in the bathroom.

  “Terrific,” I lie—so smooth.

  Then I add, just to cover, though he probably knows the truth—the exact awkward reason for my nose-dive. Still, I frantically type: “I’d just given blood—it made me dizzy. Obviously. But I’m fine now. Thanks.”

  “I’m coming in,” he tells me.

  “No you’re not!!”

  Then I lie some more—just to keep him out. “The room is full of girls—peeing and menstruating and stuff.”

  “Yeah, thanks for THAT visual … though I know you’re lying.”

  “No, I swear, there’s blood everywhere.”

  “lol I doubt there’s even girls everywhere.”

  He adds, “I’m pretty sure you’re in there alone.”

  “Yeah, you can come in if you want to get an eyeful—and sexual harassment charges. Girls on their periods aren’t exactly a friendly bunch. They’re grouchy—and they don’t like boys pouncing into their bloody territory.”

  “Okay, well I’m waiting right outside the door for you.”

  Then he adds, “… by the way, why is Smith hanging around like he’s waiting for you?”

  I could only wish that Grady is jealous … and that I could lie and say Smith is hanging around because he is madly in love with me and wants to snatch me up since I’m now miraculously suddenly free.

  But alas, Grady knows Smith has a girlfriend … and that the guy has avoided me since middle school.

  Still, I lie anyway—‘cause hey, why not? “He and I have been getting close lately. You know, we used to be friends.”

  “Yeah, I know that Mandy. But …?”

  “But what? Can’t a guy care about me? Sue me if I want to be around a guy that likes me and wants to be around me.”

  I only say this because he had said something like that about Becca. Too bad I can’t remember exactly what he said at the moment, or I’d totally throw it in his face.

  Yeah, I’m being extremely mature right now. I know.

  (Um, I actually mentioned menstruating to poor Grady.)

  Can I please wake up from this morbid nightmare?

  Please, please, please?

  I don’t wake up though.

  Instead, I take off my sexy, peed-on underwear and throw them in the trashcan.

  Love this day so much.

  CHAPTER 17

  Both Grady and Smith are waiting outside the bathroom when I finally suck it up and come out.

  “You can go, dude,” Smith tells Grady. “I can handle it.”

  Then Smith tells Grady’s hesitant-to-leave-me-with-Smith glance, “Dude, go. You’ve done enough to her.”

  Grady’s gaze cuts to me, but I can’t look at him.

  “Okay,” he finally says softly. Gently.

  After another hesitant pause, he slowly walks away. Leaves me. With Smith.

  CHAPTER 18

  After Grady leaves, Smith raises his eyebrows as he glances at me. “Are you not wearing underwear?”

  How can he possibly know that?

  He grins. “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to drive knowing you’re sitting right next to me—without that article of clothing.”

  “Then I’ll drive,” I tell him.

  He grins like I’m a frickin’ Disney character put on earth to entertain him, and I’m doing an outstanding job of it.

  He says around a chuckle, “I can hardly wait to smell hearts and rainbows in my cramped little car.”

  “I’ll roll down the window so you can’t. I promise.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Oh-kay. Smith has obviously moved way up in the world since we were last friends—but that was years ago. He used to be my neighbor, but his mom married a rich guy a few years ago.

  From the look of Smith’s fancy racy tiny little sports car, I can tell his stepdad must be mega rich. I mean, I know nothing about cars—but I can tell this vehicle is something Grady would drool over.

  So, ha-ha Grady! I’m getting into it—without any underwear on!

  (It’s sad that I think about Grady even as I’m noticing Smith’s eyes on me.) (Thinking about the way he had looked at me all concerned when I finally came out of the bathroom.) (And when he had to leave me alone with Smith—Smith who he knows I squirm around.)

  Yeah. And now I’m in Smith’s car—with no underwear. And he keeps sneaking tiny little peeks at me. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s worried about me—since I just fainted and peed myself. Or because he’s mesmerized by the knowledge there
is no underwear under my skirt.

  Face it, it’s probably the worried thing. I mean, come on. This is Smith. Smith. He has a beautiful girlfriend, and he’s flirted with constantly.

  … plus, you know, he’s aware I used to stalk him.

  So, yeah. He’s just worried about me.

  Well, that’s nice.

  Still, I know Chloe would throw a fit if she knew he was giving me a ride home. Here, let me take this awkward moment to fill you in on the awkward scene that took place a few weeks ago between Chloe and me.

  I had heard her whispering about me—loudly—with her friends as I walked by her locker, minding my own business. Something I should maybe mention is that Grady had been Chloe’s victim a few years ago (aka: one of her first boyfriends). Not that either of them ever talk to each other now—or give one another a second thought, ever, but still … it happened. Weird as it—it did.

  Anyway, last year Chloe had written a poem that she had to read at the front of the class. It was a good poem. Made me see her differently, and respect her sort of. Of course it didn’t occur to me at the time that she might not have written the poem herself. Later, when I told Grady about it he had grunted, then said, “She probably got some smart, sensitive, delusional-ly smitten guy to write it for her. I used to do her homework all the time.”

  That thought had just not occurred to me, so before that I had kind of started to fantasize that Chloe and I could be friends—all because of that poem I thought she wrote, and the way she had read it. I just thought … we could be friends.

  But Chloe had rolled her eyes after a while whenever I invited her over or tried overly hard to be friendly to her. So, I stopped. But she didn’t stop being snide to me. So, suddenly, last month, I just snapped. I’d had enough.

  I whipped back around to her when I heard her whispering snarky comments about me with her friends. I knew I should just bite my lips together and suck it up. It wasn’t like we ran in the same circles or anything, she was easy enough to ignore. But no. Not that day. I whipped back to her and said sardonically, “I used to—for some unfathomable reason admire you and want to be your friend. I apologize profusely for that—but believe me, that strange sentiment is long gone.”

  She smirked at me all smug, then said snidely, “Thank goodness you got over your crush on me. Now if you can just get over your crush on my boyfriend.”

  Blinking at her, I dropped my jaw. How did she know I used to have a crush on Smith? It had been years since I’d even voluntarily spoken to the guy.

  Yet I knew—knew—Smith wouldn’t tell Chloe about that—that I used to have a crazy, wild, monster crush on him. He wasn’t like that. At all. He didn’t gloat. He didn’t have to. He was just that cool … and kind.

  … and Chloe didn’t deserve him. Not at all. But I didn’t tell her that—of course. It would have just fueled her crazy delusional suspicion.

  I gulped. “I don’t have a crush on Smith,” I stammered out. “I have a boyfriend—an awesome, amazing, perfect boyfriend.”

  She smirked. “If he’s so ‘perfect’ why don’t you focus on him and keep your hungry, longing, pathetic eyes off Smith?”

  With that, she sashayed away as though she told me off, but all she did was leave me speechless. And stunned. And totally confused. I mean, what??? Did I ever ‘eye’ Smith? Definitely not to my knowledge. I mean, sure, Smith was hot. Gorgeous. But so was sweet Grady. And Grady was my devoted, doting boyfriend. Smith on the other hand had totally ran from me back in middle school when he accidently found out about my fanatical crush on him. So, no way did I ‘stare’ at Smith—or whatever she was implying. No way. I never let my eyes even peek at Smith. And it wasn’t all just because I was embarrassed about my embarrassing, disastrous middle school crush on him. It was also because, well, like I said—I had an awesome boyfriend, and I was totally, one-hundred percent devoted to sweet, wonderful Grady. So no way would I let my eyes even for a moment stray over to Smith—not even just to peek. No way. He was too pretty and tempting. I knew I would stare and … dream. So, I just never let my thoughts (or eyes) go there. Ever. I resisted. Completely. No peeks, no fantasies, no … nothing.

  Ever.

  So Chloe’s crazy accusation was just … crazy. And unfounded. Or maybe she just knew all girls crushed on Smith. It was just a given. Automatic.

  Whatever.

  She was beyond wrong.

  I didn’t have a crush on her boyfriend. Not even slightly. I was completely devoted to Grady.

  ***

  Thinking about that scene with Chloe now makes me slink down in Smith’s seat. What would she do if she knew where I was right this minute?

  CHAPTER 20

  When we pull up to my house, I grimace at my stupid car in the driveway. It’s a piece. Totally temperamental. And only works half the time. Today was one of the halves when it said, “No way. Not today. I ain’t moving.”

  So, luckily I’d been able to bum a ride to school off my best friend Sara. (It’s nice to have friends.)

  “Your house looks the same,” Smith says, eyeing it not like the eyesore that it is, but like it holds fond memories for him. I don’t know, maybe it does. My mom used to babysit him a lot when we were little kids. She used to bake him cookies. He loved that—my mom’s cookies.

  We also used to play superheroes together and have sleepovers—that was before my middle school fiasco with him though, of course. I duck my head, remembering that … and once again amazed that he actually started talking to me again.

  I awkwardly stand outside his car, wondering why he got out of it instead of driving away as fast as he could. “Uh … so, thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it.”

  “Are you going to invite me in?” he asks.

  “Um … no. I mean, I wasn’t planning on it.”

  He grins slightly at the way I’m turning bright red. He juts his chin towards my heap in the driveway. “Does your car work?” he asks.

  “Sometimes.”

  He looks into my eyes. “Are you planning on taking it back to school after you change?”

  “Oh, that—my return to school. Well, you see, I wasn’t really planning on going back today. I think I’ve met my quota for sucky moments for the day. I think I’m going to go back to bed. Rest up for tomorrow’s humiliating stuff.”

  He shakes his head slightly. “I can’t in good conscience leave you here alone—to wallow.”

  “No, you totally can. In fact, I insist.”

  He grins slightly, but shakes his head again. “Look, I’ve been in your shoes. Heartbreak and all that—it’s rough. But you shouldn’t be alone. Be around your friends. Pass your classes.”

  I blink at him, still stuck on the first thing he said. “You were in my shoes? You’ve been dumped? Really?”

  “Well, no. But I have a sister. I’ve seen break-up heartache.” He raises his eyebrows, “You fainted, Mandy. I can’t leave you alone.”

  I groan. “Well, I can’t face Grady with Becca.”

  “Sure you can. You’re Wonder Woman—remember?”

  He used to always let me be Wonder Woman when we played Superheroes with other kids on our block. All the girls wanted to be Wonder Woman—but Smith was somehow always the boss, and he would always let me choose first. Always. And I, of course, always chose Wonder Woman. Duh. (She flies an invisible jet.)

  “I don’t feel like Wonder Woman right now,” I tell him honestly, my chin trembling a little. “Grady seems to think Becca is Wonder Woman.”

  Smith ducks his head, smiling sympathetically at my woe-is-me pathetic-ness. “Well, Grady’s wrong,” he says gently. “Mandy, go change your clothes and I’ll take you back to school. Don’t let the dope dictate your life. If he can’t see that you’re Wonder Woman, he doesn’t deserve you. Just find another guy. One that gets it—you’re Wonder Woman.”

  “Look,” he says coaxingly, “I’m good with cars. You don’t have to invite me into your sacred house where I might see more of your lacy
underwear or whatever. I’ll wait out here and mess with your car. If I get it working before you’re ready—awesome. You have a working car—one you can drive to school, and pretend it’s an invisible jet while you scope out your next Superman.”

  I sigh. But I know he’s not going to leave without me, and I don’t want him to miss more classes on my account. “Fine,” I tell him.

  “I’ll be really quick,” I promise.

  He scrubs a hand over his face. “I’ll get your car started and have it all heated up for you—if your ‘quick’ is anything like Chloe’s.”

  CHAPTER 21

  A Week After the Faint

  A Week After the Faint

  School has become a field of landmines. One false move might prove fatal. I go to great lengths to avoid seeing Grady. Take different routes to my classes, avoid my locker at certain times of the day—and go nowhere near Grady’s locker. Ever.

  Still, even with my careful precautionary measures I’ve had to duck out of sight the past few days to avoid traumatic encounters to my heart—aka acknowledging Becca with Grady. (Ouch!) My stomach coils and aches whenever I see them in the hall together, smiling at each other. It’s like they can’t keep their hands and eyes off each other. Everything inside me shrivels and dies. Every time I see them.

  So yeah. I hide and avoid. Yet at the same time, I try to act like I’m okay with everything. When people tell me it was a lousy thing of Grady to be lured by skanky Becca, I just shrug and try to seem disinterested. “Grady can’t help it if he likes someone else,” I tell them, though inside I feel just as betrayed as they seem to think I should. I mean, come on. Grady and I had been together for over two years, and until just last month we had been the perfect couple, totally in love.